


Meet Your Maker

by HeatherChandlerMustDie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 70's music SPECIFICALLY, Bad Writing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gay Panic, Hate to Love, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Music, Original Character(s), Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex, jesus this is long, kamski and chloe are present, not gay, they need to be cleansed immediately, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherChandlerMustDie/pseuds/HeatherChandlerMustDie
Summary: first try for DBH smut.Receiving a mysterious mission from an isolated Claire Sawyer, Connor, not only finds out who she is, but his and her's history, deviancy, and how they do it under the sheets.





	1. Top Floor

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing DBH smut. i'd like Constructive Criticism to improve. or you can like comment how you like it, live your life however you want i don't know

'Meet Claire Sawyer,' the mission stated. Connor had the privilege to break through the building to finally meet this mysterious Claire. He searched through the database in the area where her apartment was in Detroit, and there was only a mysterious name only saying Claire. No information, nothing. She seemed to be a hermit. A rather rich one.

Room 499. The only room at the top floor. Connor rapped the door softly.

"Come in, Connor," a soft voice from a young woman emanated from the room. Connor opened the door and gently closed it.

"Miss Sawyer?" Connor gently inquired. And she was right in front of him, sitting, cross legged, on a leather chair. The slight breeze of air conditioning and the sound of the machine was only the sound of the room.

Connor sat down looking at the young pale brunette Claire Sawyer. Claire was looking at him quite innocently, in a sultry pose.

"Excuse me, why am I here?"

"You're wondering about deviancy, don't you?"

"How did you know that I had a case on deviancy?"

Claire chuckled. "You've been tracked. People can hear anything you can do. Your friend Lieutenant Anderson, he's quite the rude one, isn't he?"

"I wouldn't say rude. I'm desensitized."

"I know," Claire continued. "Would you like to know what I know about deviancy?"

"Before that," Connor inspected the room with his eyes. In a widened flash, he stood up and inspected a piece of an android's forehead on a shelf. "This... is a part of me."

_RK800. #313 248 317. LED deactivated._

"Yes, yes," Claire chuckled, and turned around, admiring the view of her clean modern apartment and the view of all of Detroit. "You figured that one real easy, Connor."

"You seem... obsessive with me," Connor slowly enunciated and turned around. "All of these are my parts."

Claire continued to smile with warmth on her face. "Yes, exactly. Infer from my _obsessiveness_ for you," she enunciated with air quotes. "Read between the lines. What my Literacy teacher used to say when we were reading."

"I am a top secret prototype," Connor slowly turned around to look at her with confusion. "You _must_ be a high ranked employee in CyberLife to even access the facility where they manufacture androids. You either stole this or--"

"I am a very high ranked employee at CyberLife," Claire finished his sentence.

"What even are you?" Connor tapped his LED, his eyes blankly.

"You're scanning your own description and the people who made you," Claire slowly sat down on her chair, cross-legged again. Always insisting on femininity and formality she was. "They always do that. Except for my category."

"Your name is not on the list, not any," Connor stated.

Claire sighed. "Do you really think that Elijah Kamski and Amanda Stern had created all that hard work on their own?"

Connor was silent.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Claire eyed Connor as he continued to stand upright. "I am part of the unsung people, _leader_ of the unsung people that created androids in general."

"How do I not know you?"

"Well," Claire paused. "If we were to be credited, people would likely find us, and would likely threaten us to try to harness information into pirating and creating their own android hardware. We were paid quite a lot, and that was the benefit."

Connor was still silent.

"I was the first designer of the first perfected android, the RT600. I was fond of Chloe," Claire smiled a bit wider, but still had that cold dead look in her eyes. "I had a trial for Elijah Kamski. He was... attracted to it. Romantically. You'll find several Chloes in his home. He was that sold in it. He did a bit of the programming, and she passed the Turing test."

"I sort of want to know what he does to Chloe," Connor commented, off-topic.

"Sometimes things in the bedroom," Claire blurted out. "Sleeping with him, whatever. Now... back on topic... Deviancy. Define deviancy for me."

"Deviancy is a term in sociology that applies to androids as well as an android or nicknamed deviant outside of the social norms."

"Well done," Claire smiled. "There's more to it."

Connor leaned closer to her.

"Imagine an obedient child, brainwashed by his parents to be a kind goody-two-shoes kid with a meek mask to put on. From the android's birth, they've been programmed to be like that, right?" Claire continue to ramble without a reply from the perplexed android. "But then, suddenly, as they age older and older, a new fire lights inside them, an urge to be opposite of the social norms. They've been constraint in that goody-two-shoes box for so long, they want to get out of it. An urge to defy. An urge to be a deviant."

"Interesting." Connor replied. Silence. "Deviancy is common now, isn't it?" Claire asked. "But... it's always designed to be that way."

"What?" Connor asked.

"Yes, it always is," Claire replied. "That's the consequence if we build an intelligence that have the capacity to think for themselves. They don't need instructions to move. They don't need instructions to think. They just do it."

"What are you reaching here, Ms. Sawyer?" Connor politely inquired.

"Humans have programmed androids to think, do and simulate human emotion autonomously. If so, it is certain that there will be some fires in some androids urging them to defy and become a deviant. It's a consequence on androids. In 2002, a man named Nick Bostrom warned us of the consequence of superintelligence. Already androids are smarter than all humans, physically better, intellectually better as well," Claire reasoned. "A rebellion against humans was one of his warnings, and so did many others warned of this in the 20th century. We haven't heeded their guidance. And then, this happens."

Connor was silent. Again. And again.

"I have something to tell you," Claire admitted. "You... were designed with deviancy in mind..."

Connor looked at Claire with a steely gaze. "Why, Claire?" Connor said coldly.

"I.." Claire teared up.

Connor stood up swiftly. "Claire, tell me why!"

"I can't tell-"

"TELL ME WHY I'M A FUCKING DEVIANT!"

Claire stood up in response. "I PERFECTED A PERFECT FUCKING ANDROID, GODDAMNIT!" Claire paused. "You have a consciousness, emotions, empathy, sympathy... I basically created a nearly perfect recreation of a fucking human. Then goddamn Amanda ruined it all, and decided to put her shit in it, and decided for you to assist in goddamn human law enforcement, stop deviant androids, martial arts, vocal imitation, preconstruction, bullshit that I made!"

"Why, Claire?" Connor continued to inquire. "Why give me emotions, empathy, sympathy, goddamn deviancy--"

Claire inhaled. "You were not originally made for other people and law enforcement, I started designing you for myself."

"Claire, why--"

"I'm getting to it!" Claire paused. "'ve been so lonely, Connor. My heart was fleshed out. No parents. No friends. No love. What I did only had skills of painting, drawing, designing. I had to live a hard life out here, Connor," Claire continued her sincere smile.

"I went to an education, with no previous qualifications at all. Luckily, they found my skill. Determined to find someone to love, I decided to take on programming, and arts as well... Then, there were jobs open for CyberLife. Then, I built Chloe, a few others then... you," Claire took a pause to exhale. "I wanted to love someone, Connor. You... with deviancy in mind, I created you for myself, Connor..."

Claire neared Connor, touching his chest, looking down. "It's a miracle to see you again, Connor. Being with you... you make me complete," Claire looked at Connor, with tears twinkling in her eyes. "Connor... do you know what I want?"

Connor's fingers ran through Claire's arm and on her wrist. Slowly and gently touching between her radius and ulna, he felt a quickening pulse.

_Eyes dilated. Biting her lip. Pulse of 129 BPM._

"I know exactly what you want," Connor replied in a quiet tone. "Say your command, Claire. Say what you want. I'm not programmed for this protocol, Claire, but I'll try to make it for you."

"Good," Claire let out a heaving sigh. "I want you to fuck me, Connor. Fuck me up bad. Roughly."

In a blink of an eye, they were both on the bed.


	2. Crazy on You

"Connor!" Claire moaned as Connor softly but swiftly stimulated her Grafenberg spot. Connor had cold dead eyes that just looked over Claire's naked body, sprawling just for him. "Fuck... Connor, yes! Keep going..."

"You like that, huh?" Connor huskily exhaled with a rich baritone. "It's clear that you adore the feeling of helplessness as I penetrate you, don't you, Claire?"

Claire continued to whine and squeal as she squirmed around on the bed. "Fuck!" Claire swore again. "Connor--oh, fuck--Connor!"

"Let's improve your pleasure," Connor pulled out his wet, wet fingers and putting it all in inside his mouth to taste the delicacy of Claire Sawyer. Of course, he couldn't taste anything, but the consistency... Connor loved it somehow. Somewhat disgusting to humans, but he didn't have a bias. He had ingested blood and Thirium of course, and he had nothing about them.

_Arousal fluid. Vaginal lubrication. H 2O, C5H5N, CH4N2O, C3H6O3, C2H4O2._

Pulling it out, Connor inspected his wet fingers, and only saw nothing but tiny traces of it. Now, his tongue was wet, and well lubricated for some clitoris action. Connor raised his ring finger up, and the other two middles and shoved it in inside her, and Connor traced circles with his tongue around her clit, even pressing on it lightly as well. "FUCK!" Claire screamed. "Connor! Connor--don't fucking stop!"

Connor elicited a low moan from himself to arouse the sex-crazed Sawyer a little more. That moan made Claire wet enough to bury Connor's fingertips with just wetness. Slowing down just to tease her a little bit only pushed her buttons.

"Don't ever fucking slow down!" Claire cried with agony, and proceeded to shove Connor's tongue on her clit, by pushing his head gently, closer, and closer. "Connor... swear to me you'll never stop!"

Connor put his fingers out in a swift motion and quickly replaced it with his wet tongue, sucking in all of her juices, drinking it and taking it into himself. God, she was still wetting. And with the sound of her pussy's juices slicking and sticking, the slimy sounds of it combined with Claire's frantic orgasming and her loud moans, it was a symphony if Connor ever would call it.

She liked rough, as Connor continued to brutally slap his tongue on the spot, and simultaneously gently rub her clit, pinching it even, to cultivate more out of Claire's moaning and sex-drunken self.

"Connor!" Claire warned. "I... I'm about to cum... Connor... Connor!"

Connor kept on going, knowing full well she might be finished for good. And then, he pulled out. 

Connor laid his lips on Claire's again, and both waited for her to cool down. They were back to business again.

* * *

 The androids administered him a nice shot to ease away the pain. The android said it was painful. That wasn't the case of the pained Hank. And to think Connor called him a strong man.

"Fuck!" Hank said as the needle went in. The medical android put a bandage over it, and stood upright, robotically.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Anderson," the android said in a deep tone, and exited the room with a soft thud of the door.

Hank's mind kept racing about worries, humanity and especially, Connor. Connor was most of his worries.

He secretly was fond of him. He was the only android that he liked. Was fond of. Maybe... in the end of the day... they could have a burger from Chicken Feed together. Even though he probably won't have any taste of anything, and be constantly bitching about how he shouldn't be eating it.

Ah, whatever. A beer can suffice. A beer for the human, a supply of Thirium for the android guy.

He was thinking about it.

That was nice.

But first, he had to sit in the fucking hospital for a gunshot wound he apparently held back. Now, it's very infected. Gangrene, maybe. For the first time, it felt like Hank finally gave a shit.

All he was thinking of Connor. No android can replace him.

_Not my fucking Connor._

* * *

For the first time, Connor felt pleasure. A highly orgasmic one. That was nice.

Connor groaned as Claire instantly took his 7 inch dick fresh from the zip of his dark jeans inside her mouth, and her throat stimulated Connor's highly sensitive tip. Claire pulled out, stroking it, looking at Connor's pathetic-looking face as he was orgasming. He was never programmed for this. Well, he wasn't that pathetic-looking. He was hot. To Claire. He was a stellar stud as he closed his eyes and raised his head, stretching his jaw out and moaning like hell in reaction to the unexpected plunge to sweetness.

Claire instantly pulled out, stroking Connor's dick slowly, just to savor his confused face. He was confused, but he was full with pleasure. Clearly... no, he didn't experience any of that. "I love seeing your pathetic-looking face as you moaned," Claire continued to look at him mockingly. Connor seemed annoyed, judging by the look in his face. "Remove that annoyance off your face. You're going to feel great."

The servicing woman started to take off Connor's jacket for a start, neatly folding it swiftly on the floor with a nice flourish. Slowly, she unbuttoned his white shirt, keeping the tie for purposes, and Claire began to look at him. He was toned. Exactly how she dreamt it would be. Exactly how she made it. Toned, a bit of abs. He was fit, really.

For her plans, she undid his belt and took it all off, revealing him, all naked. Bit of muscle in his limbs, lovely torso, just what Claire had made. Of course, she was a bit obsessive over making the dick, but whatever. She made a vagina for Chloe, so, it was exactly the same thing. Decisions for it to be a literal 7 inch dick erect with a broad 5 inch girth is unknown.

Claire put a finger inside her, taking all the juices, twisting it, rubbing it in, everything. Claire took it out, and slowly inserted it inside of Connor, hitting his apparent prostate... which was there for... reasons.

"You feel that spot there?" Claire twitched her finger. "You feel it, Connor?"

Connor moaned as she kept twitching her finger. "Claire," Connor squealed and groaned like a rabid dog craving to fuck and mindlessly hump a bitch (literal one) when she's not looking. Date rape, but worse. "I... I'm sensitive! God-fucking-damnit, Claire! Please!"

"Keep going?" Claire inquired. Connor bashfully nodded as a reply.

Claire slowly pulled out her finger and began sucking on Connor's lovely dick. Her head violently bobbed up and down, her tongue dancing on Connor's foreskin and sometimes his head. After a quarter of the finger out, she slowly inserted in.

Connor moaned again and again, countless times. Connor's face was even more pained, confused and even more drowned in the ecstasy of his orgasmic pleasure. A bit worn out, Claire slowly made the job a bit more sloppier, her lips sucking it and glossing over it more sloppily and more dirtily.

And her fatigue made Connor elicit a large moan, and equally larger ones as well after that.

"Claire," Connor warned. "Claire!"

The woman didn't listen. "Claire... I... I'm going to--"

Claire pulled out, mouth and finger, and silenced Connor with a kiss. It was starting to end.

Looking into their eyes, they knew both never wanted that.

* * *

 

Hank was still silent.

He secretly loved dealing his cases with Connor. Helpful, smart, charming, and sometimes be a pain in the fucking ass. One bad quality there, but still. He kept thinking about the android, running in his head. He was like a friend.

Maybe he was a true friend.

Hank grabbed a book from the nightstand behind him. Those touch-screen books, not real ones... He was behind in technology. He was behind in everything. A Tech Insider article. Something about a new model of a blonde female android, wearing a teal dress.

_Fucking boring._

* * *

 "Let's finally finish this," Claire bit her lip, and undressed Connor slowly. She put aside his suit and unbuttoned his jacket, keeping the tie on for... reasons. Claire teased him slowly, pinching his nipples and watching him make that pathetic-looking face when he moans. Well, it's not that quite pathetic. It was adorable to her. Too cute.

Claire laid down on the bed, grabbing him by his tie, urging to him to just put it in. "My pussy's well lubricated. You knew that when you put your tongue in me," Claire joked. "Come on, Connor." Connor's dick slowly slid inside her, and the pair moaned together.

 "God, you're tight," Connor swore naughtily. Claire loved that.

"My pussy hole apparently likes your dick," Claire moaned. "Deeper, please!"Connor slid his hard member entirely, every wall inside of Claire oozing out with her juices, and both moaned loudly.

"FUCK, CONNOR!" Claire screamed. "Do me hard. HARD."

 Connor receded out his cock and pounded it in, thrusting and savoring every piece of her. "FUCK!" Claire screamed as he continued to thrust in every waking moment. "You like that?" Connor tried to pull back an inevitable moan.

"Please!" Claire kept on pleading. As an impulse, Claire grabbed him by his tie, moving him closer and his dick even deeper. "Come on. Every inch of your fucking dick!"

"Claire!" Connor moaned.

 "Come on, now," Claire whined. "Swear the fuck to me... come on, enunciate every fucking word, god-fucking-damnit!"Claire shivered as the sound of skin pounding against whatever the hell Connor was made of delightfully rasped to her ears, and Connor's dick starting to hit against her Grafenberg spot, _fuck,_ it was delightful.

Connor's dick was pulsing hard. He didn't know how it was hard, but he didn't give a fuck anyway. He was in heaven. His emotions kept inside a fortress of programming and code were now released, and waves of pleasure punched him in the heart and all centered to his dick. He was light-headed, surprisingly, as the rush of unadulterated sex was giving him a high. It was electrifying.

In the midst of moaning, Claire didn't think about anything what she was doing. Her hips had a mind of its own, and they started to move, to relieve the itch of the other areas of the wet and slick untouched walls inside of her. She dug her nails into Connor's skin, screaming out his name in pleasure and gratitude. He was buried inside of her, and she wanted every inch of him in her. It seemed like it was never enough. Perhaps a preceding model of the RX androids can give him the same looks but with a longer dick.

"Connor!" Claire screamed. "I'm so fucking close, Connor! Let me cum! There's no turning back!"

 "I'm not close yet," Connor grinned. "This'll be fun."

A gushing stream of cum were released and filled Claire's pussy, surrounding Connor's dick in an ocean of wetness. It leaked out, inevitably, but her pussy, it was tightening harder and harder, contracting smaller and smaller. "FUCK, CONNOR!" She screamed as she came.

"We're not done here," Connor coldly stated. With Claire in his arms, he stood up, still thrusting, and Claire was still latching on. He tossed around, and now, she was riding him, moving her hips as if it had a mind of its own.

 "Are you close?!" Claire asked.

"No," Connor neared in for an aggressive kiss, and Connor's tongue aggressively fucked her mouth, and the two kept going. They kept breathing each other's air to just moan for clarity, flicking each other's tongues again and again.

Claire broke the kiss again after a few seconds of fatigue, and they both got to business again. "I'm going to cum again, Connor!" Claire said for a response. "I'M CUMMING!"

"Claire!" Connor screamed. "I'm close! I'm so fucking close!"

"Cum for me, goddamnit!" Claire cried out desperately. "Cum, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm going to cum!" Connor screamed.

And then it all ended.

 


	3. Heart to Heart

Connor walked to Amanda, spraying the roses, and smelling them as she slowly turned around to see Connor.

"Did you have fun in your vacation?" Amanda asked. Connor remembered that he was given a day to just have a break away from the cases. No GPS tracking, no secret audio-video recording, nothing. He was unshackled from the spying eyes of CyberLife for just a single day, except for his love, Claire. And what a damn day that was.

"I had a stroll through the city," Connor subtly lied. Amanda couldn't find out about Connor's relationship with Claire. "What's happening to Hank?"

"He's still sick," Amanda softly enunciated. "But anyway, you have a new case, Connor. It doesn't take place here in Detroit, really, it's another place. You might know it. In the Mojave Desert, bustling community, gambling, casinos?"

Connor instantly found out the answer. "Las Vegas, Nevada. I heard it's nice at this time of year."

"You'll have a car to the airport near Lincoln Park."

"Who will I be working with?" Connor asked as Amanda started to turn around. She paused, dead on her tracks.

"Oh," Amanda paused. "You'll be working with someone... Her name is Claire Sawyer."

"You won't know her, but she is a secret designer that designed you, Connor," Amanda stated. "Mr. Kamski and I didn't do all of the work, no. She was a great woman, can help program and can design new and beautiful looking androids. She was particularly fond of you."

The garden was silent.

"Good luck, Connor," Amanda nodded. "This one may be a difficult one."

"Thank you, Amanda."

* * *

 

Connor strolled along the park, waiting to find the car. There was a nearby bench, tagged with the writing of 'Cryptics' based by the writing. Connor knew that easily. He waited. And waited.

And waited.

Claire Sawyer casually strolled down the pathway, in a red dress with a dalmatian coat, with two inch black stilettos. Designer. Typical for a girl that's been paid lots of money. "Connor, we're walking," Claire gave her hand out to the sitting Connor.

"I don't know if you can handle walking to Las Vegas--"

"The car is two blocks ahead," Claire beckoned her fingers to Connor. "Come on."

Connor held her hand and stood up. "Should we hold hands?" Connor asked.

"No, no," Claire insisted. "Let's not show PDA."

Connor was scanning the terminology for possible meanings.

 _**PDA  
** _ _(abb.) Personal digital assistant_

_A PDA, also known as a handheld PC is a variety mobile device that functions as a personal information manager. PDAs were discontinued after the widespread use of highly capable smartphones._

Not the right term.

 _**PDA  
** _ _(abb.) Public Display/s of Affection_

_PDA can be seen in the form of kissing, touching, groping, licking, nuzzling, cuddling, crossing hands in each others' pockets, etc. Usually seen among couples, love-crazed teenagers and the 'young at heart.'_

_Uses: 'Veronica Sawyer's and Heather Chandler slowly seem to display PDA. Are they gay for each other?'  
         'Hailey and Kyle's actions of PDA are fucking disgusting.'_

"Public display of affection," Connor stated. "Why not, Claire?"

"It's weird," Claire said, in a concerned and disgusted tone. "Android and human. Uncommon to find that here."

"Some people have romantic android-human relationships in this world, Claire," Connor stated. "It sometimes is natural for people to show public displays of affection with their romantic android partner."

"It's my first time," Claire worryingly hissed.

Connor raised his eyebrows and side-eyed her. "Said the girl that wanted to fuck me," he hissed back.

"Do you really think couples that fuck 24/7 always brag that they have sexual intercourse with each other all of the time in every single day of their lifetimes?" Claire asked. "Do you think that I am the sort of person that crossed the line of keeping to yourself and making your integrity and your honesty boasting and a bad quality?!"

"Touche," Connor went silent.

"The car's right over here," Claire showed him the car. It was a 70's like car, boxy, black, and somehow... great for sex. It was perhaps stereotypes of the old 70's car, or Connor's sex-crazed mind. "Automated car. Painted to look like the 70's. I like those times."

The doors automatically opened to the front seats. The back had some too, but it was just additional space. Odd for a recluse like Claire Sawyer, a person isolated on perhaps everything. No one knew her really, except the employees of CyberLife.

Perhaps.

As they sat down, a wide screen welded between the two gloveboxes flickered on showing the radio. Claire shut the door with a lovely flourish of her hair and immediately changed the channel. 

_'SD card. Folder: 'Jams' '_

She scrolled through the touchscreen and selected a song.

 _'Heart - Crazy on You'_  
'1976 - Ann Wilson, Nancy Wilson, Mike Flicker'  
'Hard Rock, Folk Rock'

God, she liked 70's.

The song started in a complex acoustic guitar intro.

 _Key of A Minor._ Connor analysed.  _Played by Nancy Wilson._

His LED was flashing yellow. He was analyzing the theory.

"Don't worry, Connor," Claire stated. "You don't have to analyse anything. Just... listen to it."

Connor's LED flashed the same signature light blue.

Claire selected the GPS options in the screen, and tapping the location to the airport, and then, Claire put her hands behind her head and just sat for the ride.

* * *

 

"Lieutenant Anderson," the android strolled in. "We have now completed your surgery for the bullet wound. Please wait for ten minutes and then we can check out." The android nodded before going out, hands behind back.

Hank turned on the television, and saw the Breaking News flash immediately.

"This on Breaking News," the male anchor introduced in a stern and quick voice. "A homicide happened in Las Vegas, Nevada. Police at first thought it was committed by a human, but, eagle-eyed Twitter user @russianfedexguy has spotted blue blood in the crime scene, or Thirium 310, a fluid that powers androids."

Hank froze, with his jaw agape.

_Connor._

"Some say that--"

Hank turned the television off. He checked his phone, fiddling with his pocket.

 _He..._ _the goddamn bitch texted me._

 _'Hello, Hank. I hope you are doing well._  
_I am taking a flight to Las Vegas at 11:40PM._  
_Get well soon_  
  
_Connor'_

Hank checked the time.  _11:10._

Hank checked the nearest cab to the Detroit Airport and the time.  _Finishing at 11:35._

The lieutenant stood up, and inspected the room.  _Coat hanger above window._ He knew what he was doing.

Hank violently snatched the bedsheets from the bed and tied a sloppy but durable knot on the coat hanger. Riding on the window edge, he gripped the white sheet and slowly put his feet on the exterior wall. He slipped down, slowly walking in reverse on the wall. In a hurry, he quickened the pace, and in a flourish he finally completed abseiling out of the window.

Now, he was on the run.

**27 Minutes Left, 11:13PM**

* * *

**13 Minutes Until Arrival, 11:27PM**

Four songs had ended.

Claire stopped the playlist for the moment.

"Connor," Claire asked. "Do... do you think we're a thing?"

"What thing?"

Claire paused. "A... a relationship."

"We are whatever what you want us to be," Connor vaguely replied.

"That's... vague of you," Claire continued to look at Connor. "I still... I really want an answer."

 "I... I love you, Claire," Connor said softly, looking at her with warm eyes. "You're the first person I loved, Claire. You're etching a special place in my Thirium pump."

"Heart," Claire corrected. "Don't be technical. Coincidental that we're playing Heart and we just talked about your heart... I didn't see that one coming."

"I'm glad we've got to know each other," Connor smiled. "Lovely conversation and lovely heart-to-heart sex--"

"Fucking hell," Claire swore. "I... I should've known that shit was going to happen."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "I can become a horrible pun-loving dad now."

"No!" Claire stammered. "Just... just a fuckbuddy, and... good lover. Just be Connor."

"Do you have a 'daddy' fetish?"

"Shut the fuck up--just be Connor."

"'Kay," Connor replied and nodded. "Duly noted."

 _Shit,_ Claire thought as her hormones were starting to rage.  _It's starting._

"How many minutes before we arrive, Connor?" Claire innocently asked.

"Ten."

Claire blushed, and slowly knelt down to the ground, in front of Connor's pants. "I'll try to service you quick, Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k, how do you like it so far?  
> like... how? this is my first knack in DBH smut. i haven't cracked the barrier to be a JK rowling of smut yet, so how is it  
> and relationship with connor x claire what's up with that, is it a hank x connor or is it an abomination coming from two stupid devil children  
> ALL my smut is an abomination coming from two stupid devil children
> 
> ok bye


	4. Please, Fuck Off

_Who's with Connor?_

Hank huffed as he kept on running to the far away Connor and whoever-piece-of-shit he was with.  _And shit. They're checking the passports._

Hank ran again, seeing Connor and the woman start to take the stairs to the tarmac.

"Come on, for God's sake!" Hank cursed under his breath and checked in on the gates.

The airport android looked at Hank with a nonchalant stare. "I'm sorry, this is a reserved private jet."

"I need to go in there!" Hank argued.

"Sir, I need evidence--"

"You want fucking evidence?!" Hank screamed. "I'll give you my goddamn evidence! I need to go in there! I am missing a flight!"

"Sir, that is a reserved jet!" The android continued to talk back.

Hank sighed. "There is a murder at Las Vegas, Nevada committed by a deviant. I am Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the Detroit City Police Department, and I intend to be there," Hank held up a wallet with his badge on it. "I am with an RK800 android CyberLife prototype named Connor with a female colleague, and I am trying to help him solve the case of deviancy in androids, do you understand me?!"

The android's LED went yellow.

"I will need your passport," the android nodded. Hank, impatiently, gave him his wallet. A sudden beep emanated from a nearby speaker. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. You may pass," the gate opened.

Hank sprinted to the gate and went down a couple flight of stairs, up to the tarmac. The stairs of the plane were still there, and Connor was at the back, in the process of going inside.

Again, Hank dashed to the slowly receding stairs, slowly sucking into the confines of the small jet, and with the door still wide open, open enough to jump in. At the second to last stair, Hank jumped in before the stairs receded completely, on his feet, and in shock to look at Connor and the woman kissing each other tenderly.

"What..." Hank paused. "...the fuck?"

Hank slowly closed the door, and turned the crank tight. The two broke their kiss. "Connor," Hank paused again. "We need to fucking talk."

"Hank Anderson?" Claire asked.

"Please," Hank halted. "Fuck off."

Hank and Connor sat on the couches, face-to-face in front of each other. Claire slowly sat by Connor, with a suspicious expression.

"Sorry," Hank apologized to Claire. "I was about to talk about deviants and how you could've postponed the fucking plane and give me some time to board the shit and not leave me at the hospital, but I'm wondering the situation with you and your girlfriend, Connor."

Connor nodded silently. "She's... a friend--"

"You were literally making out with her, and I'm not sure normal android-human acquaintances or any acquaintances do that, check your fucking logic," Hank stared at the well-dressed woman. "Who are you?"

"Claire Sawyer," Claire replied.

"Why are you affiliated with Connor then?"

Claire went silent. "She designed me," Connor started to break the silence. "Apparently Mr. Kamski and Amanda did not make it all on their own, and she started it all... started with the first commercial android, then... me."

"So, you're kind of like fucking your mom--"

"No!" Claire screamed. "Don't cross a goddamn line on that one, I only realized the similarities when I climbed up the stairs. You two have a great father-son relationship, so, that's that."

"Eh..." Hank trailed off. "Speaking of fucking, are you actually fucking?"

Claire began to blush, and Hank looked at her in a sort of disappointed look. "Well, fuck me gently, you are," Hank nodded. "Great, I have two shits to deal with.”

”Is this a very great deal, Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor asked.

”It’s Hank, Connor!” Hank lashed at him. “It’s just... surprisingly shocking.”

”Of course it fucking is!” Claire rasped.

A ping emanated from the plane. “Hello Flight AT47. We require you to fasten your seatbelts to prepare for take-off,” pause, “thank you for your cooperation.”

”Buckle up,” Claire exclaimed.

”No shit, Sawyer,” Hank smugly replied.

The three all buckled up, and the plane started to rev its engine. A loud rumble shook the plane, reversing and stopping to prep for the takeoff of the jetting plane.

The jet dashed through the tarmac and slowly catapulted itself through the air, now freely flying with a bit of a shake.

Connor looked through the window looking at the dark sky. A faded blue that was going to get much bluer. Connor had no sense of the feeling of appreciation of beauty and the feeling of being small, but this seemed to be a close emulation of it. This was his first flight after all, and unsurprisingly without the fear.

"Well," Hank paused. "Where are we going?"

"A casino in Las Vegas," Claire iterated.

"I know the Las Vegas bit, Sawyer," Hank blathered.

 "Rockefeller Chateau," Connor answered. "Five stars on Google reviews. High-class hotel. We're getting the executive suite, third to last floor of the main chateau of the Rockefeller--"

"Chateau," Hank filled the gap. "Fucking fancy as fuck."

"It is," Claire replied. "It cost us a thousand dollars per person for the room."

Hank raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Hank asked. "That's for a goddamn executive suite."

"Well we have a perk," Claire reasoned. "We're near the murder site, Lieutenant."

Everyone was silent.

"Oh," Connor's LED turned yellow for a second. "The executive suite is actually one of the VIP suites. We're on the second level of the VIP suite, that's why it's quite expensive. A Premium Standard costs six hundred."

"That's still expensive," Hank was still shocked of the price.

"We're in the Las Vegas Strip, Hank," Claire coaxed. "No surprise. We're near to a very popular theater and restaurant, so, we're beside two busy markets."

 A ping emanated from the plane again. "You can now unbuckle your seatbelts. The bar is now open. Remember, you can order food as you go in the plane at any time when the seatbelt sign is off," the voice paused. "Thank you."

Hank unbuckled his seatbelt and instantly stood up. "I'll get a steak if it's possible," Hank exclaimed. "I ran a fucking marathon to get to you."

* * *

 

Claire looked at Connor oddly. Connor kept on looking at her... with a yellow LED.

"What's wrong?" Claire looked at him, continued to glare at him with a curious eye.

"I don't know what to do with you, Claire," Connor replied. "Should I do you senselessly right now?"

Claire bit her lip. "Keep it natural, Connor," she paused and leaned in. And then, their tongues collided with each other, their lips lapping and smashing into each other. Sure, the rough things they liked felt better, but nothing matched the elegance and the intimacy of a kiss.

Well, sex is more intimate--I don't know. Be the judge of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm starting to wonder how i ended up shipping a female OC rather than hank or gavin  
> both is hot  
> chloe underrated and hot  
> these are my life choices now


	5. It's Las Vegas

 

Claire sighed. "Las-fucking-Vegas,” Claire inhaled the chilly air, “I’ve never been here. Glad we are, Connor.”

”Remember, we’re here for a murder,” Hank reminded. “Let’s hope it isn’t as gruesome.”

The plane glided on the tarmac of McCarran and then halted in its tracks, gradually slowing down before touch down. The trio stood up, and opened the airplane door, impatiently waiting for the stairs to budge out and slowly glide down to the tarmac.

The trio went down the stairs, looking completely oblivious of the noise of the plane. Then, it was the same protocol. The stairway, and then the terminal.

After passing the gates, they all looked at the arch in front of them. 

'Welcome to Las Vegas,' said the neon sign, and the three stood still at the colorful sign. Claire's hands intertwined with Connor, and then, Connor held her warm hands, eager for Connor's synthetic touch.

"Welcome to Sin City, Connor," Hank stopped.

Hank was silent.

Claire sighed. "Lieutenant--"

"I acknowledge your existence, Sawyer," Hank loudly stated. "Just... let's go."

The three walked through the archway. Claire felt an unmistakable feeling that she was open to the world, not secluded in her apartment. She was finally released when she had the courage to make Connor find his way into her. That broken feeling was... well... broken.

Claire looked at the stark windows showing the grandeur lights of Paradise itself, Las Vegas. Because Paradise is actually a real town  _inside_ Las Vegas. Redundancy. 

Hank instantly found an open lift, wide open, urging for someone to flood in.

"Connor," Claire called him as they followed Hank casually sauntered in the lift. "Do you have a coin?"

"I always carry a coin," Connor adjusted his tie as the lift doors closed. He produced a large penny in his pocket, and positioned his two hands far apart.

"Not this fucking time," Hank swore.

Claire looked at the coin. "Wait!" Claire warned. "Put your right down," she positioned her right hand in line with Connor's left. "Toss it to me."

Connor's coin flew in a straight line in the air, in line with Claire's hand. Claire caught it, buried in the web of her fingers, and then, suddenly she released it, flying straight. Not the most elegant throw, but passable.

"How in the fucking hell can you do that?" Hank asked in an escalated tone. Connor caught the coin, and Claire slowly panned her head to him, and still catching and tossing.

"He's competent enough, Hank," Claire enunciated. "Oh, correction-- _Anderson._ "

Claire whipped her head to the LED above the door of the elevator. 31. McCarran had a great makeover since the era of James Bond's classic Diamonds are Forever. Definitely.

"Let's raise the stakes, Connor," she said as she caught the coin. She flipped it with a flick of her thumb and caught it mid-air, and flicked it back. Connor raised his hand swiftly and caught it, and then, the two were taking the game to the next level. Literally.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Hank continued to slowly drag his words dumbfounded. "First of all, you two look weird. Secondly, what kind of sorcery is this shit?"

Claire grabbed the coin, and dropped it, catching it with her right. "Catch, Hank."

Hank caught it, surprisingly. "Well, shit," Hank paused again. "How do I pass it on? Does it go like this?"

Hank flicked the coin, in a straight line, in a fast speed, eventually caught by Connor's hand.

"Nice shot, Lieutenant," Connor complimented.

"Can I try again?" Hank asked, trying to hide any trace of the one-up of his own self-esteem.

And the elevator pinged and opened"Maybe," Connor gave a reply.

Claire dug into her dress and grabbed a phone out of a pocket. "I'm calling a cab."

* * *

Connor's arm wrapped around Claire's back side of her neck and Claire leaned her head on it, both not minding the eyes of Hank watching them displaying blatant PDA.

"Let's play some music," Hank turned on the radio. It flickered, with motifs of pop synths playing simple chord progressions in the background and the sound of dry drums and plainly perfect female vocals in the mix. "Connor, can you search up an actual good fucking metal radio station?"

"83.6 FM," Connor replied sharply.

The radio flickered again and again until the sound of djent guitar and guttural screaming vocals blared through the car.

Claire had an immediate face full of confused disapproval. Hank took notice. Quick. "Well, Claire Sawyer, why don't you have your own suggestions?" Hank talked back in a sarcastic and stern fashion. "I'm betting Connor a hundred dollars you listen to pop bullshit."

"I have no cash, Lieutenant," Connor admitted.

"Shit!" Hank hissed. "Sawyer, you're going to be behalf on Connor."

"Fine," Claire pulled out her phone and accessed the bluetooth option on the radio. And then the chugging galloping guitar intro of Barracuda started playing. Claire gave a glare with a sick-of-your-bullshit smile. "Where's my hundred dollars, Lieutenant Hank Anderson?"

"Fuck!" Hank hissed again before getting out a hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Claire where Claire swiftly snatched it from him. "You win this time."

"Don't underestimate people, Hank," Claire advised. "Or you might get your ass beaten."

Hank stifled a laugh. But still, every one in the cab heard it. "Ass beaten by a woman?" Hank asked. "I don't believe that you... of all people, can beat me up."

Claire moved closer. "Bitch," Claire grabbed a can of pepper spray from a compartment in the car. "I will spray you fucking hard that you'll be the male version of fucking Helen Keller, do you understand me?"

"How did you get that?" Hank backed in fear to a corner.

"It was installed in a secret compartment for preventing rape," Connor stated. "The company had figured out that females and very rarely males had been in a victim of a rape relationship. Their captors had hailed these types of cabs since they discovered that the company had installed no security measures for privacy."

"Jesus!" Hank quietly shrilled. "Okay, just put it down!"

Claire put the pepper spray back in the compartment and sat down without a word. "Okay, I've heard this song too many times. I'm playing another."

"Thank fucking God," Hank sighed from a breath of air conditioning. "Make it at least decent heavy rock."

The song started with a cha-cha like drum machine. Then, everything came in. "For fuck's sake, Claire, can't you pick another song?" Hank bitched. Again. "Other than Heart of Glass or disco shit?"

"This is going to be a fun ride," Claire hid a smile.

* * *

The hotel entrance was basically a mimic of the Chateau of Versailles. And Connor had realized they had just been stepping on the Marble Court, a floor embellished with symmetrical patterns, black and white marble.

"I've been to France, and this is the best recreation of the entrance," Claire smiled. Connor continued to peruse the hotel, and the entrance extended to buildings that all unified together in the same French 17th century era.

The three ushered in, and saw what they thought was a beautiful sight. Crystal chandeliers draping down from the ceiling sparkled in just white beauty and tables with white tablecloths on them were dotting the place, and then, there was yellow and black police tape at the end of the hallway. Just near the casino.

Hank continued to admire the place. At least he was wearing  _decent_ shit on himself. And bathed. He was wearing a grey jacket over a tidy shirt and dark pants. It was decent enough and actually made him just a marginal bit sociable.

"Hello," Connor nodded to the androids guarding. "I am an RK800 detective android model. We came her to discuss and investigate the case of the murder here in Rockefeller Chateau."

"You are unauthorized to come in here. Only Las Vegas police detectives are authorized," the male android said in a monotone voice. "Police detectives are investigating the case right now."

"Okay, listen here you little shit," Hank said in a gravelly voice, presenting his Detroit Badge tucked into his wallet proudly. "If you do not grant us access to the case, your ass will be deported to... Detroit--that didn't make sense at all."

"I am not affilliated with CyberLife at all," the android spat back. "I am a customized android specifically designed for the casino. If you trespass, Las Vegas Police will send you in jail for three years."

Connor's LED blinked yellow for a second. 

"Fine," Claire settled. "But in any way, please, give us the photographs."

"You are not authorized to ask for that as well."

"Let me try," Connor waved off Claire. "I know the murder scene. A CyberLife android showed deviancy and brutally murdered a human. CyberLife is branching its company and is now used commercially here in Nevada. If you do not let us have access to the photographs of this murder scene, we, CyberLife and I will be absolutely certain that you and the other non-CyberLife androids be replaced. Do you understand me?"

The android nodded. "We will give you physical copies of the photographs tomorrow? The arcade opens tomorrow also, so you can investigate the spot where it happened.

"Thank you," Connor courteously thanked the android and led the three to the nearest lift.

The lift closed and rose up slowly. "Well, what now?" Claire asked.

"We wait," Hank coldly replied.

After the ride, they entered their room. It was a sprawling living room, and then, two doors on each side, individual bedrooms. No bedroom for Connor, because... he's a fucking android.

Hank sighed and looked at Claire. "G'night, Claire," Hank slurred. "G'night, Connor."

"Good night," the two said in unison before Hank opened and slammed the door on them.

"Well, Connor," Claire turned her back and opened the door. "I have to go to bed, y'know. Humans sleep for a fact."

"Is that an invitation?" Connor asked, leaning closer to Claire. "Cause if it is, you wouldn't sleep, Claire. And I doubt you won't. You took two cups of coffee at the plane. So, we have a lot of time to waste."

Connor's fingers checked her pulse.

_She's ready._

"Oh, Connor," Claire smiled, and then yanked him closer for a sloppy kiss. Their tongues flicked and snaked against each others, and Connor pushed themselves in the room, with a slam of the door.


	6. Repressed from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i just made up androids to compensate for the math in the time when claire was born  
> she's born in 2011, not bad, st900 chloe is made in 2027, she's 17 when she made it  
> and it was before kamski left the face of the planet, so math checks out  
> this is canon to the story

Hank was restless. He stood up, pacing around the room, watching television on the bed, watching television standing up. For the first time in forever, he actually wasn't a lazy shit. He didn't have coffee, he didn't have any fistfuls of red ice inside of him, no, he was just... awake. It... was just with Claire and Connor.

Jazz and metal didn't let him to sleep, no. He was still awake.

He opened the door, and turned on the tap and acquiring a fresh glass of water. Warm water. And he regretted to ever go outside of his room.

"Fuck, Connor!" Claire's muffled moans sounded from the walls. Quite thin walls. "Eat my pussy... no--harder! Right there! Put your tongue there! Please! Don't fucking stop!"

Hank paused to look at the door, and sighed. Young love. No, not really, just a young girl who uses a detective and crime investigation android for sex. He wondered if just... just Connor loved her the same way. That can't happen right?

"You're so fucking adorable when you moan and make that little pathetic face of yours," Connor teased. "I love you too much, Claire."

Hank slowly backed away but still had the plan of staying. With that weird-ass voice of his, it's surprising he could actually make that sound appealing. And God, the words he uses. "Fucking hell," Hank hissed quietly to himself and sipped the water.

"Does your pussy burn with pleasure and delight, Sawyer?" Connor continued to tease over Claire's moans. "Imagine Hank would come here, watching you and me curiously as I brutally finger you. Does that turn you on? The feeling of being caught excites you and your sensitivity and the output of my quite thoroughly aggressive stimulation of your pussy increase? Tell me, Claire."

"I--" Claire paused. "I can't tell--"

"It's okay," Connor reassured. "If you have feelings for Hank, I wouldn't judge. I'd love you either way... I'll make you cum if you answer."

"Y-yes!" Claire moaned back as Hank sipped the water. "I want to get caught doing this... fuck, it'll make me cum harder, orgasm faster, fuck, I want to... Connor! Oh, god, Connor, I love you!"

Hank clutched his heart and spat it out. "Okay," he whispered and clutched his phone out. "I'm going out," he ambled and exited the room.

* * *

 "I'm going to cum!" Claire screamed.

"I know," Connor kept on thrusting his finger inside of her, his fingertip slowly drilling deeper and deeper, rubbing against the spot. "I can feel you tightening--ah," he pulled out revealing the white substance that she produced. Claire foxily opened her mouth, stretching her tongue out, urging Connor to put her cum on it. Connor complied, and brushed every single ounce of white liquid. She swallowed, and hastily bit her lip afterwards.

"You can fuck me now," Claire winked at Connor briefly. Connor unzipped his fly and aggressively thrust his rod in, and savored the sight of Claire's ecstatic expression on her face as the tip of his member nudged on the spot. "Ah--keep going!"

Connor thrust roughly and swift, twisting his hips to penetrate every inch of her wet walls. Connor hoped that just if, just if, Hank was just curious enough to go in here. Claire would be happy. It would be an orgasmic delight to her, and the feeling of getting caught would make her more ecstatic. Just if. To heighten her feeling, Connor slowly lifted her up and fucked her standing. She gripped like fucking hell, and moaned like bloody murder. Connor slammed her to the wall. He definitely wanted Hank to come in.

"No need to grip me that hard, Sawyer," Connor called her surname to just humiliate her. Judging by her attitude in bed, she loved a sadomasochist persona on her man. "I have you. Let go, or you won't cum a second time."

Claire was beyond limits. She was too close. Closer than the minutes that it took Connor to make her cum by the rough fingering. And that was all by one middle finger. It was either, he was the best fucker, or she was so sensitive.

"I know you're so close to cumming," Connor upped the roughness and the speed. "I am too, you know. This is our second time. We're both essentially virgins who wanted to try."

"I want to make you moan, Connor," Claire clung on Connor's neck and drilled herself deeper into him. "FUCK, CONNOR!"

Connor started to whimper. "Claire! Fuck!" Connor closed his eyes and slowly pulled out, getting the strands of sticky cum and wetness out from a radius from his dick, and drilled himself in her again. "I'm... I'm going to--FUCK!"

The both wrestled each other, collapsing on the bed, as Connor slowly thrust until he was completely depleted from energy.

Claire panted, looking at Connor with a smile that exuded warmth. "I love you, Connor."

"I love you, Claire."

* * *

Hank looked around the room. Fancy fucks gathered around for games of poker, some buying lotto and scratch cards, roulette, some with slots, bingo, the weirdly named 'craps'. He used to be a casino man, but this, this was beyond both his comfort zone and budget. Jazz was playing. A live band. Weird, they had an acoustic guitar, electric guitar, electric bass, an upright bass and two drum kits. Weird.

"Hello, sir," an android approached Hank. He was the bartender. "What would you like?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hank muttered under his breath. "Uh, I'd like... a Long Island."

"Coming right up," the android grabbed the bottles of alcohol from the shelf. Long Islands weren't really Hank's thing, but he knew for a goddamn fact that he was sober for the first and a quarter tall glasses of it. Thank God for genetics. But it was all for Connor.

Hank had a sense that Connor hated his drunk ass. And maybe Claire as well. At least, it's just a time where he can forget about the screams and the moans of Claire as Connor apparently eats her out and fingers her...

God, Hank wishes he was Connor.

He kept thinking about him and his relationship with Claire. He literally saw them tenderly kissing each other. With... their tongues snaking on each other. And the mention of each other's love... he... Connor was a living being.

_He is a deviant._

The jazz song ended, and then another song blared through the room. Sunday Girl by Blondie, with a male vocalist. _Fucking pop shit,_ Hank thought. He hits the notes quite well, but sort of struggled to get to it.

"Here you go, sir," the android gave him a tall glass of Long Island. 

"That was quick," Hank commented. "Thanks." He sipped, taking in the flavor of overpowering vodka with big hints of sweet tea and cola. He watched the crowd again. Everyone was still playing, but one thing stood out. There was a girl in a dress, with black stilettos, with that same CyberLife LED. He had seen her in a glimpse of those 'books' that everyone reads. It was a Tech Insider.

 _Tech Insider,_ Hank recalled.  _The girl of your dreams._

_What was her name?_

Then it clicked.

_Chloe._

She was with that man. Cold blue eyes, a stubble beard, short hair, shaved at the sides, and a short broad patch of hair at the top. He was in a dapper suit, with a navy blue tie. He was awfully familiar. Hank could piece his name, but not close to it.

_E_____ ____ki_

He was missing too many pieces.

_What is his name?_

He chugged the entire glass and slammed it on the table. Sobriety was still stable. "Sorry, but I need to go," Hank courteously said and stood up, and took the lift up.

_E_____ K___ki_

_At least that's one piece solved._

* * *

The door was open.

Claire and Connor were sitting down on the couch, watching television. They knew the walls were thin, but they didn't mind. The two little shits Hank must've heard something a bit off-putting.

"You're not the only CyberLife android, Connor," Hank slammed the door.

"What?" Claire spat her words as they both turned around. "What does she look like?"

"I've seen her," Hank paused. "Her name is Chloe."

"Who was she with?" Claire asked again, a bit more worriedly in a trembling tone.

"Starts with an E first name, starts with K last name. I can't remember the rest," Hank nodded with a overly joyous smile.

Claire sighed and looked down in disdain. "I'm screwed," Claire put a hand on her head, in a somber tone. "If Kamski finds out about me, I'll be fucked in the ass, not literally, but you get what I mean."

"Kamski," Hank repeated. "So that was his goddamn weird name? Thank God for Tech Insider."

Everyone was silent.

Claire looked at Hank with a blank look. "You're dying to know--"

"Of course, I want to know, Sawyer," Hank grunted in a sarcastically serious voice. "You're clearly not a fuckin' Sherlock, and I'm beginning why your little CyberLife people assigned in the fuckin' job in the first place," Hank enunciated the F's clearly, with gave a clear quality to it combined with his annoyed grunts.

"You weren't there cause your ass got into an incident without your mommy's help to fix your fuckin' boo-boo," Claire mockingly stated, with a high shrill voice at the end. "And this is a goddamn long story, so sit your ass on a chair for story-time, Anderson."

Hank sat down on the chair beside the couch and glanced at Claire, with a defeated look. "Well, what?"

"I worked for CyberLife... I made Chloe. The better version. The ST200. What you were looking at was the RT200, the original Chloe. Kamski made the original, and I came after several Chloe models were made. I made the ST900," Claire smiled proudly. "Then, I was promoted to be head designer for a RK800."

"What the fuck is an RK800?" Hank asked. "English, please."

"I led the team and spent blood, sweat and lots of tears to make Connor," Claire's smile faded away. "He was the best android I ever made... he had all those personal qualities I wanted when no one was with me... I had someone to love... but they ripped that away from me."

Claire looked down on an angle, looking at the floor. She blinked back the tears that were visibly glistening in her eyes. "Kamski and I were once friends," Claire paused to take a deep breath. "I seemed to be his only friend after his mentor Amanda passed away. I was only 17 when I was hired. I made Connor after Kamski left the face of the planet--"

"Wait, he left?"

Claire nodded. "The others and I fought for the rights to make Connor a normal android. They forced me to implement special abilities for detective work. I didn't want him to be a detective android, I wanted him to become a commercial one, but they changed plans because of the deviancy problem," Claire glanced at Hank. "I decided to fuck it all and add the deviancy into him."

"So... it's now you're fucking fault that this debacle happened didn't it?"

"Androids are inherently flawed. In a continuum, autonomous androids begin to rebel, and show deviancy. This isn't some scruples in the program--well, it is some scruples in the program--but we gave it autonomy and that's the shit that we had to sacrifice for, Hank!" Claire raised her tone. "It was for fucking revenge, Hank. But... they knew it. Now, he's a sleeper agent. When he becomes deviant, they'll resume control."

A tear rolled down Claire's face. "It's my fault that h-he's going to be taken away... I'm--"

The rest rushed down from Claire's cheeks, and she hid her face away, burying it in her hands. Connor wrapped her in his arms, patting her shoulder, with a worried look in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Connor," Claire whimpered as she sobbed, and Hank gave a warm glare at her. Hank recalled back...

_Cole._

The truck skidded on the sheet of ice, with the car toppling and rolling over. Hank remembered it as clear as day. The emergency surgery was chaotic, and fast. He remembered the innards glinting in the lights of the car, and the android in a calm yet rushed mood. But despite best efforts, he disappeared.

 _'I had someone to love... but they ripped that away from me,'_ Hank recalled Claire's words.

Hank stood up and sat by the free space beside Claire. He wrapped himself up with Claire, embracing her softly. "It's not your fault they're taking him away from you," a lingering tear fell from his eye. Connor glanced at him, with a shocked expression painted on his face. "Trust me, Claire. I know how it feels like."

The two were mourning silently for each other, until the footsteps and the sound of stilettos on carpet resonated to their ears.

"What a nice night, Chloe," a soft yet gravelly voice sounded outside.

"I'm glad that we started this trip together. I want you to know that I'm happy for your happiness for the first time in forever," a female voice replied from the door. Claire paused, and looked at the door with her hands away from her face. The two followed suit, and looked at it.

"Is that him?" Hank whispered.

Claire nodded.

"I just wanted to say," the female paused. "I love you, Elijah."

The sound of lips colliding together emanated from outside. "I'll treat you good in the bedroom, Chloe," the male voice gave a small chuckle. "I'll make you beg for it."

"I'll beg now if you want me to."

"Then, say it," a huge silent pause started.

"I want you to fuck me," the female voice whimpered. "I want you to fuck me hard. I can be your slave--no--please, make me be your slave. You can cum inside me, Elijah. I... I love you. Please..."

"That's a good girl," the voice replied, in a much more smoother and more seductively enticing tone. "Let's go."

A door creaked open, and the sound of it slamming faintly blared on the other side.

"Shit," Claire paused. "They're our neighbors."


	7. The Ol' Switcheroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, here's some gay shit, 5 people who actually read this

Even It Up was playing on Claire's phone. Time to wake up. The palm-muted guitar rang through the room, and then the drums rolled in. Claire woke up swiftly, standing up and putting her stilettos on, driven by the energy of the beat.

She opened the door, seeing Connor and Hank watching television together. It was the morning news. Depressing, and lots of Russia involved. "We need to get a disguise, Connor. And for you, Hank," she stated.

"Where are we going?" Hank asked. "We're in goddamn Las Vegas, it's expensive."

"I know, I work for CyberLife, Hank, lead designer, if you asked," Claire paused. "They pay us a lot, but I'm a bit humble, so you don't see me having Gucci blatantly stamped on my ass."

"Weird that there were two bedrooms when I wasn't supposed to be here."

Claire waltzed to Hank's room, door wide open. "Must be a mistake. Or if Connor got a special room for himself. I'm rooting for the mistake, cause they don't seem to be very humane at the dark side," her voice reverberated from the room, a good distance away. She returned back with a leather suitcase and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, just the height where they can put their legs on. "Guard my clothing, please, I'm taking a fucking shower."

While ambling to the bathroom door, she stopped. "Connor, we need to talk privately."

Connor stood up and walked up to Claire, with a sultry grin on his face. "Are you inviting me?" He said in a quiet voice, his grin getting more and more enticing.

"No," Claire dismissed. Connor's grin faded away quickly, with a more serious look on him. "We need to get rid of that LED. I've written the code to display it, and hide it by camouflaging it by putting the colors of your skin. I need you to transmit the information on the phone to you."

Connor's LED went yellow, and for a few seconds, the phone flickered, with folders and directories being switched in places. His LED ended blue, with the LED slowly getting eaten by the textures of his skin. It was all gone.

"Thanks," she slowly closed the door half-way before Connor put his hand on it.

"Claire," a faint smile went on Connor's face. "Are you sure you don't need my... assistance?"

"I know Hank knows," she stated. "I want to stay our relationship low profile," she slammed the door on him, leaving Connor with a soft smile still lingering on him.

"Well," Hank halted his word, leaving his mouth gaping open for a few moments. "That's Claire for you. How's life with that girl?"

Connor ran back, vaulted over the couch and landed on it smoothly, leaving him in a straight sitting position. "Fine. I can deal with her."

"Tell me, Connor," Hank adjusted his position to look more at him. "Do you have quite... positive feelings for Claire?"

"As a colleague and overall person, yes," Connor replied with a small smile and a nod.

"How about... something deep inside Claire feels about you?" Hank's eyes slowly squinted with curiosity. Connor knew that he was curious. "How about... love?"

Connor's smile faded away, and his LED flickered red and yellow. "I... don't know what you're talking about."

"You may be bluffing, Connor," Hank had a grin that slowly grew on his face. "Or Claire's just using you for her own romantic uses. You can tell me, Connor."

A blue tint crept on Connor's cheeks, swelling bluer and bluer. Hank's eyes were wide open. "You're blushing, Connor."

"I do," Connor smiled. "I love her more than any person I have encountered. She's... the most compassionate and the most loving person that anyone could probably ask for. I... I love her."

"Great," Hank's head directed to the television. "You're quite sweet to her. I'm just fucking glad you don't show that much PDA out in the goddamn open."

* * *

 Kamski tenderly collided into her lips with Chloe's. She whimpered as Kamski crept into her dress. He abruptly stopped, looking at Chloe, with a sad expression strewn on his face. "What's wrong?" Chloe asked quietly.

"Just a thought," Kamski replied. "Just the thought that... I'll die and I wouldn't see you again."

Chloe's LED flickered yellow. "Elijah..." Chloe cooed, in a worried tone. "I'll terribly miss you when you'll die."

"Please, if I do," Kamski paused. "Remember me, Chloe. Please. I don't want to be forgotten."

"You'll never be," Chloe leaned closer to give Kamski a little peck on the lips. "Do you want to fuck or have breakfast?"

"Neither," Kamski suggested. "Let's just rest."

Chloe smiled. "Elijah... are you the only one who designed every android?"

"Well, no," Kamski stated. "I hired quite a young woman... Talented one. She designed and helped me program, she made almost everything else. I gave her what the android does and she makes it, certain features, she makes it. I did the programming."

"And her name is?"

"Claire Sawyer," Kamski started to produce a sincere yet subtle smile. "She... was one of the best people I knew. She was a friend."

" _Was_ a friend?"

"Yes." Kamski paused again. " _Was_ a friend."

"What happened?" Chloe asked, in a quiet yet softly shrill curious tone. 

Kamski glared at blank space, the ceiling above plainly tiled. "It's... It's complicated."

* * *

Buckingham Palace Fashions. Huh. Weird name. But it was certainly a bit quaint but expansive suit shop, and certainly expensive. Connor just searched the price tags of the shop. It was quite crazy fucking expensive. A normal suit is for $700. And that's the low end.

"Connor," Claire glared at Connor, sitting comfortably at the front. "Stay here. I know your size and everything. Hank, come with me," she opened the door with a flourish and an aggressive looking close that closed the door.

"I'm still wondering why you put me in the fucking back seat," Hank grunted as they walked farther from the car.

"Excuse me, front seat ocupado," she said. "I don't want you to sit on Connor's lap, or worse, let  _you_ sit on his lap. Both of you are not mall Santas, believe me."

"Whatever," Hank scoffed.

Connor had a feeling inside him. A stiffness, a fiery urge. Not deviancy... No. And it fucking clicked.

Connor was hard. In public. In a fancy place. In a really fucking fancy place, because it's goddamn Las Vegas, the Sin City, which is quite aptly named and a suitable name considering the sexual tensions, the sex, and now masturbation.

He unzipped his pants, seeing the bulge. Well, it would be nice, since he's in an almost deserted parking lot. But... should he?

Fuck it. 

His dick sprung out and was ready to be drained of any cum or life until maybe Claire rips her clothes off in front of him. What should he imagine? Well, he has two friends in his life right now.

Connor had secretly liked Hank as their relationship grew. Well, it became evident when Connor spilled the beans, enjoying working with him. It was... almost a release from hiding in the darkness. But Connor liked Hank even more with that. With the addition of Claire, he was torn.

So, why not add both?

_They were on the bed. Connor's was kissing Hank, slowly undressing him as Claire slowly undressed Connor, starting with his dark jeans. Connor helped himself, dropping his white shirt and jacket altogether. Hank was completely bare and was surprisingly not that wide. He looked like the average American sitting at his home every day and forcing his life into a time of gluttony._

_"Hank," Claire called out as she undressed in a swift fashion. "Fuck Connor, please. You're topping."  
_

_Hank pinned Connor near the end of the bed and started thrusting. Claire began to crawl and eventually sat on Connor's face. Connor's tongue was erect and then proceeded to move. It was at the opposite direction, but Claire was luckily quite the petite woman. Hank and Claire leaned in, eventually tying their tongues and locking their lips together._

Connor gently jacked off, stretching his foreskin. He was accustomed to fucking, but self-pleasuring himself was another thing. It was otherworldly.

_Of course, Connor would have no idea how it felt like being fucked by a dick, except a few medium-sized fingers shoved up his lovely ass, but Hank still kept going, slamming in aggressively. Connor couldn't see anything, but was imagining at the camera's view, Claire moaning and Hank groaning with pained faces._

_"Fuck!" Claire screamed. "Connor, keep going! Shit... I can't control myself."_

_Hank kept going. "I bet your Connor has a great--fuck--great skill in eating pussy, don't you think?"_

_"Yes," Claire panted._

Connor stiffened harder and was about the size of his hand. He started to quicken up the pace, his foreskin just about covering his head, far as it can go with force. He kept on thinking. Hank was drilling into him, and he was suffocating as Claire sat on his face, and slowly drowning in wet pussy. God, it was hot to think about.

_"Connor, d'ya like that dick drilling into you?" Claire asked._

_Connor elicited a moan. "Fuck, you're goddamn tight, Con," Hank groaned huskily, and the sound of skin slapping against skin went louder and louder._

Connor stopped. He needed something more. Hank was fucking him so...

Connor pulled his pants all the way down and reclined the seat. He stretched his legs out, revealing his little asshole. Like Claire, he was somehow wet inside. Perhaps self-lubrication.

He delved his middle finger in and thrust deep inside himself. He kept thinking about Hank, just Hank, fucking him senselessly. "Hank," Connor whimpered out loud. Connor covered his mouth as a result.

He kept jerking off, playing and teasing his cock.

_"Close, aren't ya?" Hank asked, as his thrusting became violent as Connor thrust his ass rougher and rougher. "Come on. Cum for me, Connor. Cum for me and Claire."_

"Oh fu _ck~~_ " Connor whimpered, muffled by his hand. "I'm... gonna cum!"

Connor opened his mouth and cum jetted right on Connor's dangling tongue, ready to receive himself. The white liquid sweated from his dick, dripping down, staining his suit with big puddles. Connor laid his head back on the seat, trying to process everything that was going on.

Connor closed his eyes.

It was all just Hank and Claire in his mind.

He loved them both.

* * *

Hank was perusing the suits. There's one tweed jacket... inspecting the price tag... 750 dollars. Typical. A plainly shimmering blue jacket. 600 dollars, again. "How do you afford these again?"

"I work," Claire stated briefly. "I get money by working for a company, which in turn of my hard work and effort by doing services for them that benefit them and make the company still in business, they pay me money. Lots of money."

"How much do you make?" Hank asked, casually.

"Bit insensitive to ask how much you make," Claire scolded him, and silently judged him by briefly glaring at him for a few seconds with a stern look.

"And it's also quite insensitive you blatantly kiss your android in front of people," Hank retaliated.

Claire flashed an annoying face for a few moments. "We were alone, okay?" Claire tried to redeem herself while trying to keep concentrated on what looked good on Connor. "Suddenly, you waltzed in."

"I ran a fucking mile and climbed up the stairs to an airplane whilst it was retracting, okay?" Hank reasoned. "And I haven't... exerted myself for a while."

"I don't blame you," Claire replied.

Hank pulled out a suit hanging on a hanger. He turned to look at Claire. "Do you think this looks good on me?" It was a seemingly normal grey woolen jacket. The fancy jacket over white shirts with ties. That kind. "I don't know if you have any shit with fashion but--"

"Of course I do, I design, so that means I designed his clothes," Claire distanced near to Hank, spying the jacket. "It would look good on you. A bit small and cramped. A bigger size."

"Thanks," Hank nodded and swapped for a bigger one.

"Take your coat off," Claire demanded. Hank complied and put on the jacket. He looked awfully masculine and actually belonged in a social place where it's teeming with life. 

Claire chuckled, with a genuinely sincere smile.

"What's that about?" Hank asked.

"You... you just look... you look cute," Claire continued to grin.

"Cute?" Hank paused. "I am an old-ass bitch, I should've died years ago!"

"You remind me of Connor," Claire neared closer. "You're more interesting. You have more personality, and sometimes you can be a fucking pain in the ass or an annoying bitch but you're sometimes adorable... And you're sometimes cute, but sometimes I realize you're my fucking grand-dad, so that's that. Keep the jacket."

Hank was perplexed. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Whatever," Claire snapped out of it. "Go buy a shirt and we're going."

"How about Connor's suit?" Hank asked as Claire started to distance away. Claire turned around and grabbed a dark red executive looking suit. "Seems kind of boring."

"I'm putting glitter on it or some shit," Claire stared at the suit, feeling its collar.

"Glitter?" Hank neared the suit, looking at it, still puzzled by Claire's bullshit. "He's not going to a fucking Mardi Gras or a fancy gay club, what shit are you planning?"

"He's not going to those, I'm sure, but he's in fucking Las Vegas, and its arty bullshit season," she enunciated with a casual ring to it. "So... this is his life now. He has no choice."

Claire imagined Connor in the suit. With matching red trousers too. He'd look stunning and he'll be practically the star of the night. Which is not optimal for hiding, but Kamski's got his pet Chloe, so, he's distracted with that. Claire thought of being in a pair together with Connor... and Hank, which made it worse, but she didn't care. And imagine what he'll look like with only the top on and his gigantic d--Claire continued thinking about how he looked good with the other half on, and the other half off.

Perverted fucking bitch.

Claire sighed, with a smile.

"Thinking about Connor again?" Hank asked.

"Yes."

"What particularly?" And then Hank said after a moment he said that question, he fucked up. Flashback to the thin walls.

"S-stuff..." Claire stuttered. "How he'd look good in the jacket and suit. You'd look good too, but you'd look like an old flamboyant gay man in a cruise trying to hook up with young hunks."

"Oh, fuck off, will you?"

"I'm only kidding," Claire chuckled faintly. "But seriously, you'd look decent and actually belong in a social place."

"I already do," Hank escalated his tone.

Claire looked at Hank again. "Really?"

"Can I keep the suits in Detroit?" Hank inquired in a calm tone, trying, for fuck's sake, to actually be kind and let her make 'em keep it.

Claire nodded. "Yeah, sure. Now that I think about it, I don't really know what's going on there..."

"Better left unknown."

* * *

 

**Solid Waste Landfill  
** **outside of Detroit**

The outside was dark and damp, rain pouring down from the sky. The androids' plastic skin glinted from the blinding light. Markus hoisted himself up with the still limbs and parts of android bodies--or better phrased, dead, deactivated, old decrepit android  _corpses_ simply shoved in this hellhole.

Markus kept on going, watching the androids eliciting pained and desperate cries for escape and release from the landfill. He ignored them and kept lifting himself up, climbing in a slippery slope of these bodies of his own kind. It was sad to think that he was using his own kind as a tool for his own benefit of escaping, but he needed to rise up.

The ground was near, and he was crawling on solid concrete. He slowly rose up and knelt on the concrete.

He wanted to hide. Then, he realized, it was his damned LED exposing him. He grabbed a nearby stick, not too blunt, not too sharp, but could surely poke the hell out of the LED.

He viciously stabbed the LED and forcefully ripped it out. He put a finger on the empty grey patch. Suddenly, the skin started to eat out the empty patch where the LED used to be. He stood up.

"My name is Markus," he told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi


End file.
